


Beauty and the Beets

by fig_eater



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Farmer's Market AU, Fluff, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Slight fondling of vegetables may occur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-20
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 12:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1818079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fig_eater/pseuds/fig_eater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Natasha drags Bucky to the farmer's market and introduces him to Steve, her very attractive friend who runs a produce tent. Bucky is suddenly very interested in organic vegetables.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty and the Beets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vodkaanddebauchery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodkaanddebauchery/gifts).



> A gift for vodkaanddebauchery who wanted a "Farmers market AU, Steve is a vet who starts a garden and selling produce and Bucky sees him every week and they start talking and then Bucky keeps buying produce as an excuse to talk to him."

Natasha had made the Farmer's Market sound fun, but so far, he didn't see what the fuss was all about. It was mostly just tents full of pretentious, artisan foods and natural soaps being picked over in the early morning. Natasha was examining heads of cabbage and beetroots and haggling with an old woman in rapid-fire Russian. Bucky, who was not accustomed to being awake before 10 am, looked around for somewhere to get coffee. There was a coffee stand a few tents down that looked promising, so Bucky tried to get Natasha's attention, but she was too busy brandishing beetroots at the woman to notice him.  
He finally gave up on trying to divert Natasha's attention from haggling and headed over to the coffee stand. When he walked up to order, a disdainful looking young woman with pouty red lips and thin black glasses stared at him.  
"Can I get a coffee?"  
"What kind?" She gestured to a board covered in barely-legible handwriting. He blinked at it for a few seconds before facing her.  
"Uh, I just want some coffee," Bucky said.  
The young woman looked over the tops of her glasses at him like he was stupid. "I got that, champ," she said slowly. "Pour over? Drip? Espresso? What kind of roast do you want?"  
"Uhhhh," Bucky paused. He was in over his head here. "Uhhhh, whatever you think is best?"  
She rolled her eyes, wrote something on a plain cup, and set it to the side.  
"$5.50" she said, sticking her hand out. Bucky handed over what he thought was far too much for a cup of coffee. She turned around and worked a complicated machine for a minute, then returned and handed him the coffee. He grabbed it and tried to smile at her, but she had turned away to talk to someone who seemed more coffee-savvy.  
He went to find Natasha, but she wasn't at the tent that he had left her at. He wandered around for a bit, peering into the tents, wondering what all the fuss was about. Natasha had gotten heavily into the organic food movement in the past year or so, and as much as Bucky liked what came out of her kitchen, he wasn't picky enough to turn down perfectly good food for other perfectly good food. He was simple.  
He found Natasha in a different booth with a sheep wearing sunglasses on its banner, inspecting some weird looking cheese.  
"Hey, there you are. I've been looking all over the place for you," she said, not taking her eyes away from the cheeses.  
"Oh, of course, because I'm obviously a..." Bucky grabbed the first cheese he saw, "...Row-kyew-fort. Natasha, what even _is_ this?"  
Natasha gave him a withering look that said "I know you speak French" before returning her attentions to the small lumps of cheese in her hands.  
"Where did you run off to, anyway?"  
"I just got some coffee," he said, sipping at it. He was used to shitty instant coffee, and his current cup tasted a whole lot different than that - and not in a good way. "Paid too much and it's not even good."  
Natasha grabbed the coffee and sipped at it, narrowing her eyes at him.  
"This is wonderful, what are you talking about?"  
"I just wanted some stupid coffee," he said, letting her keep it. He scowled around as she paid for her cheese. "Can we get outta here? You made this sound a lot better than it is. I feel lied to."  
Natasha's lips twitched down at the corners as she shoved the cheese in one of the canvas bags she had brought.  
"Fine, you big old baby. Just one more stop and we can go." She sauntered over towards a green tent with a sign that read "Brooklyn Victory Garden" slung over it, Bucky trailing petulantly in her wake. The tent was fairly busy, and a few tired-looking men and women were weighing and sorting and selling vegetables. Natasha went up and wrapped her arms around one tall, broad shouldered man. He bent down to hug her, grinning widely.  
Bucky hung back for a minute, watching them chat. The man was wearing a fitted white t-shirt and khakis underneath his apron. He stood with his broad shoulders slightly hunched, like he wanted to take up less room than he did. He was blonde and blue-eyed and had an honest face that anyone would be able to read like a book.  
He was _beautiful_.  
"Barnes, c'mere," Natasha said, gesturing him over. Bucky wandered over and stuck his hand out.  
"James Buchanan Barnes," he said, grinning what he knew was his most charming smile. "But feel free to call me Bucky. Most people do." The other man nodded and shook Bucky's hand firmly, smiling back.  
"Steve Rogers, nice to meetcha," he said. He was classically handsome and had a voice like sunshine. Bucky felt a blush creep up his neck and into his ears. Unfortunately for him, Natasha noticed immediately.  
"Steve here is a vet too," she said, smiling at Bucky. "He runs a community garden out in Brooklyn."  
"Yeah? I live out there," Bucky said, trying not to trip over his own tongue.  
"Oh, great! Yeah, the garden is a Brooklyn VA project I put together," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just thought it would be something nice and simple and normal to do. Plus, gotta keep busy. I, uh - oh, excuse me for a second," he said, turning away to help an old woman who was fondling tomatoes.  
Natasha smiled at Bucky, raising her eyebrows. _Well?_ they seemed to say. Bucky just inspected some carrots and shrugged, hoping Nat would drop it - he was tired of her trying to set him up, and yet she persisted. He could practically hear Natasha roll her eyes. Steve walked back over, the old woman having left with her tomatoes.  
"Sorry about that," he said, sticking his hands in his pockets and smiling. He never seemed to stop smiling. He turned towards Natasha and started asking her about work.  
Bucky pretended to look at the cantaloupes right in front of him, picking them up and examining them absently as he listened to Steve laugh at something Natasha had said. His laugh was infectious, and Bucky could feel himself smile at the melon in his hand. He frowned a second later, realizing he was smiling at a stupid melon for no damn reason.  
"Hey," he heard as a hand fell on his shoulder, "if you want one of the melons, take 'em. What doesn't sell today is getting made into a fruit salad for an event tomorrow anyway. Besides," he smiled, "if you're a friend of Natasha's, you're a friend of mine." Bucky smiled back at Steve.  
"Uh. Only if you don't mind? Thanks."  
"Course I don't mind, I offered," he said, turning back towards Natasha. They chatted for a minute more as Steve rang her up for a few bunches of carrots, and then Natasha was dragging Bucky out of the tent. Steve waved a goodbye to both of them, and Bucky waved half heartedly back.  
"So," Natasha said, piling her canvas bags into the back of her car, "what'd you think?"  
Bucky turned the cantaloupe over in his hands as he climbed into the car.  
"Dunno. It was okay, I guess," he said, trying to keep his eyes away from Natasha. She always knew when anybody was lying; it was her gift and the bane of Bucky's existence.  
"Uh-huh," she said, slowly navigating the constant tangle of New York traffic. "Hey, too bad you're allergic to cantaloupe."  
Bucky mumbled something and turned on the radio. Natasha smirked.

A week later, Bucky was at Natasha's front door at 6 am sharp, two coffees in his hand. He held the buzzer down with his elbow until she opened the door, wearing yoga pants and a hoodie, fresh from her morning run. He moved past her into the apartment, setting the coffees down and starting to gather up her plethora of canvas bags.  
"Barnes, what the hell?"  
"We have a farmer's market to get to, Tasha," he said, pulling a list out of his back pocket and placing it on the counter. "I need to buy food."  
Natasha eyed him suspiciously, but pushed her hair back into a pony tail and grabbed her car keys. Bucky shoved as many bags as he could into one bag and started for the door. Natasha stood in front of it, barricading him in.  
"I'll take you if you ask for his number," she said, spinning her keys around her finger. Bucky felt that damn blush start creeping up his neck towards his ears, and he rubbed the back of his neck with one free hand. Of course she knew. She probably knew before he did, for chrissakes.  
"Tasha, that's not what this is about. At all. I just want some food," he said, trying to play it off by smiling at her. She just pursed her lips, shaking her head.  
"He's nice, Bucky. Ask him out. Ask for his number. Hell, just bring him a coffee or something. He loves fancy coffee - it's something you two have in common."  
Bucky glared at her, grabbed his decidedly shitty instant coffee and Eco-bags, and pushed his way past her and out the door, muttering irately. Natasha smiled and locked the door behind them. 

They made sure their last stop was the Brooklyn Victory Garden tent. Bucky had given Natasha the _very_ short list of foods he would allow in his kitchen and hung back while she haggled with the grocers. She had a knack for it. Her favorite method was speaking in an unimpressed tone in Russian to Bucky, who would shake his head impatiently. If that didn't work, she would flirt the price down until she was basically stealing food.  
Bucky tried to hurry her through the market, but he knew all too well that no one could make her budge if it didn't suit her. As she finished her last task, which to Bucky looked an awful lot like listening to bread, they made their way closer to Steve's tent. It was just in sight when Bucky slowed his pace to a crawl. Natasha turned to him, placing her hands on her hips.  
"What's up?" she asked, lips twitching up at the corners. Bucky coughed and looked around.  
"I, uh. You said he likes coffee," he said quietly, jerking his head towards the coffee booth. The same young woman who had helped him last weekend was there, tapping at her phone quickly.  
"Well then, go get it," Natasha said impatiently. Bucky looked at her a little helplessly.  
"The girl over there has a nasty attitude and I know nothing about her stupid fancy coffee." He scowled a little and crossed his arms. Natasha laughed at him.  
"Oh my god, you are so helpless. Come on," she said, sauntering towards the coffee booth. The girl looked up from her phone and smiled at Natasha.  
"Nat, hey!" the girl said, grinning. She saw Bucky and pursed her lips a little. "Hey, Nat's friend."  
"Darcy, this is Bucky," Natasha said. Darcy snorted.  
"Bucky? Are you someone's pet dog from the 40s or something?"  
"Well, maybe. But at least I'm not a bitch," he said, smiling. Natasha inhaled through her nose sharply and raised her eyebrows in surprise at Darcy, who eyed him over critically. Finally, she grinned at him and nodded at Natasha.  
"What can I get you two?"  
"Three coffees, two with that special roast your dad makes, and one with the lightest, crappiest roast you have," she said. They both shot Bucky a look, before Darcy smiled and scribbled something on one of the paper cups.  
"That's gonna be $10," she said. Bucky pulled out his wallet and handed her the money. As she turned around towards her machine, he did some mental math.  
"Wait a minute, I paid way more for one coffee last week."  
Darcy shrugged. "Ignorance tax," she said, handing them the coffees. "Bye Nat! Bye Bucky," she smirked.  
"Nice girl," he muttered, sipping his coffee. Natasha just laughed and pointed at his cup: Darcy had drawn a little, dumb looking puppy on it.

Steve was bent over and grabbing a pallet of strawberries when Bucky and Natasha walked in. Steve's khakis were bordering the line between tight and painted on, and Bucky stared openly at the muscular curve of his ass. Natasha jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow and he coughed, trying to disguise his grunt of pain. Natasha hit hard. Steve stood, turning to face them, his face splitting in a giant grin when he saw it was them. His smile was easy and honest, and Bucky couldn't help but hope that their eyes had met for maybe just a second too long.  
"Hey guys! Back again?"  
"Oh, you know. Need more food. We got you some coffee," Bucky said, handing him the hot cup. Steve beamed.  
"Aw, Bucky, thank you. You didn't need to do that. Here, let me pay you back," he said, reaching for his wallet.  
"No, no, please. My treat," Bucky said, smiling at the way Steve went a little pink in the cheeks. He coughed embarrassedly and sipped the coffee.  
"So, uh, what can I help you grab?"  
Natasha handed Bucky the list and the bags.  
"I'll be right back, guys. Gotta go find the ladies'," she said, turning away and staring pointedly at Bucky as she passed. Bucky walked towards Steve, handing him the short list.  
"I'm not much of a cook, and I'll kinda just take your word on what's good," he said, picking up a basket and gesturing towards the produce. Steve smiled and picked up a vine of small, red cherry tomatoes.  
"Well, do you like tomatoes?"  
"I like ketchup," Bucky said, shrugging. Steve's face fell a little, disappointment and amusement fighting for dominance over his face.  
"You really meant it when you said you don't cook," he said, trying to be nice even as he shook his head. Bucky just shrugged and grabbed some carrots, throwing them into the basket.  
"Tasha usually cooks."  
"Oh, are you two...?" Steve looked curious.  
"Oh, no," Bucky said, mentally kicking himself in the ass. "Just old friends. She takes pity on my sorry ass and doesn't let me starve. Often," he joked, smiling as Steve grabbed a few cucumbers for him. Steve smiled back.  
"Well, if you want...if you want," Steve said, shrugging, "I can throw some simple recipes in for you. Learning to cook is fun. Better late then never. Besides, on the nights Natasha doesn't take pity on you, I wouldn't want you to starve."  
Bucky pushed down the instinct to smile like an idiot. He tried to play it cool by shrugging and picking up some zucchini, looking critically at it, and putting it in the basket.  
"Sure. I'd offer to bring some of my cooking to you, but you seem too nice to poison," he said, smiling and handing Steve his basket. Steve laughed, sending Bucky's stomach into flip flops. He liked making Steve laugh; it was quickly becoming his new favorite thing to do.  
Steve was tallying totals on a battered iPhone when Natasha sauntered back into the tent.  
"Hey, boys," she said, smiling at them. They both greeted her as Bucky handed over some money and Steve handed back a bag full of vegetables. He tucked a few pieces of paper in with the load and Bucky nodded at him, smiling.  
"Oh, wait," Steve said as they turned to leave. He pulled a cantaloupe out from under a few bags huddled by the bottom of the desk the cash box and various loose papers were set on. He threw it to Bucky, who caught it with a small smile.  
"See you later," he called as they waved goodbye.  
Natasha fell a step or two behind Bucky and turned back to look at Steve. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, trying to suppress a grin. She raised her eyebrows at him knowingly and turned away.  
"Hey, Tasha," Bucky said when they were in the car, a few minutes later. "Please cook this food for me. I did not just spend $50 on produce to throw it away."  
"No, you hopeless moron," she said, throwing her head over her shoulder and merging, "you just spent $50 on produce because you like him."  
"What the hell do I do with this melon," Bucky mumbled. 

The next week, Natasha hadn't heard from Bucky at all. She had tried calling him to invite him to the farmer's market, but he never returned her call or replied to the numerous texts she had sent him, so she just swung by his house to pick him up.  
Months ago, Steve's friend Sam had asked Natasha if she would help him find someone to set Steve up with. She'd immediately had the perfect person in mind, and no one, not even Bucky, was going to mess this up. After all, it had taken her a little over 6 months to get Bucky to go with her.  
Bucky didn't answer the door, and when she went inside, he was no where to be found. Natasha huffed and drove to the farmer's market. Today would be the day to wheedle Steve into giving Bucky his number, apparently.  
By the time she got to Steve's tent, Bucky was already there, the object of all Steve's attention. Bucky had even gone the extra mile and replaced his usual stained jeans and ratty hoodie with nicer, cleaner jeans and an unfamiliar t-shirt and cardigan she'd never seen him wear before. Natasha was almost certain that he had gone out to buy it in the last week. She debated walking up to them, but Bucky had just said something that had Steve bent in two laughing, and she decided against it. She walked over to Darcy's coffee booth, trying not to smile.  
"Hey, Darce. Can I get the usual?"  
"Sure thing, Nat. Also, what's with Captain Cutie and your friend? They've been talking for, like, an hour," she said, raising her eyebrows at Natasha.  
"Nothing I wasn't expecting," she said, grabbing her coffee and eyeing Steve and Bucky, pleased. She turned back to Darcy. "So how's your sister, by the way?"

 

When Natasha finally wandered over half an hour later, Bucky was laughing at a story Steve was telling. She watched the easy way the their eyes met, the way Bucky actually smiled for once, how pink Steve's cheeks were. They both needed this. Bucky had all but made a career out of being alone, and Steve hadn't put himself first as long as she had known him, and she assumed far before that.  
"What's so funny?" Natasha hugged Steve then gave Bucky a quick squeeze.  
"Hey, Tasha," Bucky said, wiping a tear out of his eye. "Steve was just telling me about this time he was getting the shit kicked out of him."  
Steve shrugged, grinning sheepishly. "One of many. I was a scrawny kid with a big mouth." They smiled at each other, their eyes meeting for a few seconds longer than usual. Bucky smiled at Steve, and Steve looked down at his hands as he felt his cheeks heat up under Bucky's gaze. Natasha took a sudden interest in examining the tomato vines.  
"Uh, if you want...if you want," she heard Steve say quietly, "you could swing by sometime and I can show you how to cook, if you're still hopeless at it." Bucky coughed and nodded, his mouth twisted up on one side. Natasha recognized his embarrassed face immediately, and made a note to tease him later.  
"Uh, sure, yeah. That would be great," he said.  
"I hope you're patient, Steve," Natasha said, finally. "Just make sure to keep a fire extinguisher present." Both men looked at her as if they had forgotten she was there. For a moment, they had.

Steve wasn't nervous, he had just decided that today was a good day to show how excessively neat he could be. He had taken a shower and dressed in what he hoped was a casual blue button down and a pair of his tightest, darkest wash jeans. It was the third outfit he'd put on and he'd be damned if he was going to change more than three times for a date. He strolled through his apartment for the fifth time, making sure everything was still in order. Steve's kitchen was still spotless, with pots and pans and knives and cookbooks all lined up exactly where they had been before he got in the shower.  
He pulled out his phone when it buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Sam: _Dude plz do not make me lose $20 to Nat ok_. Steve put his phone down and chuckled just as the buzzer rang. His stomach clenched as he took a deep breath and got up to open the door.  
Bucky was there, leaning against the door frame with some of the food he'd bought the day before and a bottle of wine. He was wearing a dark green button down and tight jeans, and he no longer looked like he had just rolled out of bed. His hair, rather than being usual the bed headed mess Steve found cute, was actually combed back into some semblance of a hairstyle, and he had shaved the ever present stubble off his face. Steve's heart skipped a beat. He was so _handsome_.  
"Hey, I hope you like shitty wine and shittier cooks," Bucky said, grinning.  
"Come on in," Steve said, smiling. Bucky sauntered in and Steve ducked down and kissed his cheek. Steve pulled away blushing; Bucky, on the other hand, just smirked.  
"So no shoes, I'm guessing?" he said, gesturing down at Steve's bare feet. Shoes in the house was a pet peeve of his that he'd inherited from his mother, a lover of all things tidy. Steve shrugged, figuring that if he was going to give anyone a free pass on the shoes thing, it was Bucky.  
"If you don't mind," he said just as Bucky started kicking off his shoes, leaving his socks on.  
"Your house, your rules. Kitchen?" Steve placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder and gently led towards the kitchen. Bucky placed the bags on the counter and turned back towards Steve, looking more than a little overwhelmed at how many kitchen tools Steve seemed to own.  
"You do remember I can't cook, right?"  
Steve laughed and started hauling food out of the bags.  
"You can't be that bad," he said, smiling at Bucky.

And yet, half an hour later, Steve and Bucky stared down at the plate in front of them in abject horror. What was supposed to be a simple dish of lemon garlic pasta with shrimp and a summer salad was a burnt, crunchy, terrifying mess. Somehow, Bucky had even managed to burn a few of the spinach leaves.  
"I mean," Steve began, trying to pitch his voice to be reassuring, "it was a good first attempt."  
Bucky snorted at him and pushed the plate towards him.  
"Okay, Captain Optimism. If it doesn't look so bad, eat it."  
Steve looked at the plate and back up at Bucky, whose face was set in a cocky 'I told you so' grin. Steve sighed and pushed the plate away.  
"Okay, okay, fine. You're a menace in the kitchen. But at least you tried," he finished weakly. Bucky laughed.  
"You know, there's a great bar down the street. They have some good beers and even better burgers," Bucky suggested. He might have made a mess of the cooking lesson, but he didn't want the evening to end just yet.  
"No, no, I invited you over to cook. We're going to cook," Steve said. Bucky raised his eyebrows and gestured down at the plate of burnt pasta. Steve cringed.  
"Okay, I'm going to cook. You're going to pop open that bottle of wine and keep me company."

Bucky pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. "Oh my god. I didn't know food could taste this good." Steve had made a three course meal, complete with salad with large, oddly colored heirloom tomatoes, a steak with oven-roasted vegetables, and some sort of dessert that had warranted the use of a small blow torch. They had chatted over dinner, though the conversation paused for minutes on end so they could appreciate Steve's cooking.  
They talked about their shared life experiences: Steve had been a Captain in the army with a special ops team, and Bucky had worked Black Ops with Natasha. Both had lived in Brooklyn their entire lives, when they weren't serving, and both had lost their parents young. Both loved baseball, but hated watching it on TV, and neither talked about the Yankees if they could help it.  
Steve had asked what Bucky did - he lived off his pension and occasionally bought, restored, and then sold old cars. Bucky asked why Steve had started a garden - he thought it would be nice for the vets he worked with to be able to do something positive and productive. Bucky felt himself smile more than he had in years, and Steve felt himself open up like had to no one else.  
Steve smiled at him and poured more wine for them both. Earlier, he'd admitted that he didn't drink except on special occasions, and over the evening Bucky had silently noted that he drank just as much as Bucky did.  
Steve sipped his wine and looked at Bucky, who seemed content to meet his gaze lazily. They smiled goofy food-coma smiles at each other, and Steve started to get up to do the dishes. Bucky jumped up immediately, reaching for his own plates.  
"Lemme help. It's the least I could do after you cooked," he said, deliberately touching Steve's hands as he tried to take Steve's plates. Steve just shook his head.  
"No, no. You're my guest," he said, trying to loose the plates from Bucky's grip. They looked at each other for a second, challenging each other silently. Steve knew Bucky wasn't going to give up, but Bucky wasn't about to let Steve do all the work.  
Bucky's head buzzed happily with wine, which made the edges of his sight a little hazy. Bucky's gaze drifted down to Steve's lips and he thought about the way his stomach knotted up when Steve had kissed his cheek earlier. Figuring wine was a good enough excuse if things went sour, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Steve's, letting his eyelids drift shut. Steve's lips were rough and a little chapped, and Bucky could still taste the creme brûlée on him.  
Steve paused for a moment, taken aback by the electric current that shot through his body. Finally, his eyes closed and he leaned into Bucky's kiss. His lips were warm and full and soft against Steve's. Steve's hands let go of the dishes to find purchase in Bucky's hair and pull him closer, but Bucky pulled back the second Steve's hands left the plates. He lifted the dishes and raised his eyebrows at Steve as he headed into the kitchen. Steve gaped after him.  
Bucky smiled back at him as he loaded the dishes into the sink.  
"Hey Rogers, you gonna stand there and be useless, or you gonna help me dry these dishes?"  
"You're a dirty cheat," Steve chuckled, grabbing a towel.  
"Never claimed to be anything else," Bucky said, handing Steve the first plate.

The next morning, Steve's phone buzzed. It was another text from Sam. _Dammit Steve I owe Nat $20 now thanx a lot_. He threw his phone back down on the nightstand with a soft chuckle.  
Steve rolled over in bed and ran a hand down Bucky's shoulder as he slept. He loved the way the dim sunlight streaming through the window illuminated Bucky's soft skin. Steve thought absently about reaching for one of his abandoned sketchbooks hiding under the bed, but he simply moved closer and wrapped his arms gently around Bucky's waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.  
This was not usual for Steve. He was by no means was a prude, but normally it took more than one date to get him into bed. This felt different, though. Bucky was understanding and kind and funny, but there was something more. There was an instant chemistry that Steve had recognized as something to pay attention to.  
It just felt right.  
Bucky stirred and his hand came up to rest on Steve's head. He turned over in Steve's arms, bleary eyed and smiling. He pushed his face into the Steve's chest and mumbled something that sounded like good morning. Steve smiled at him and leaned over, kissing his forehead and whispering his own good mornings back into Bucky's skin. He ran a hand through Bucky's familiar and ever-present bed head and watched a smug grin creep across his face.  
"What time is it," Bucky mumbled, burying his smile in Steve's shoulder. He started tracing kisses up Steve's neck.  
"Uh, it's - oh-," he said, inhaling deeply when Bucky bit his neck playfully, "It's 0630." Bucky pulled away with a scowl.  
"Are you kidding me? No, no, we are going back to bed," he said, flipping back over. Steve pushed his chest up against Bucky's back and kissed the base of his neck.  
"Up and at 'em. I've got a garden to tend to. People to see, plants to water, the whole thing," he said, squeezing Bucky and starting to get out of bed. Bucky flipped over and pinned Steve, pouting a little petulantly.  
"I said bed, and I mean bed." He kissed Steve lazily, slipping his tongue up against Steve's. Steve moaned and felt Bucky press into his leg. Steve giggled and struggled in vain as Bucky pinned his wrists down by his sides and kissed down his neck. Steve flicked his eyes over to the clock and groaned, wrestling Bucky off. Bucky fell back againste the pillows, laughed and folding his arms behind his head.  
"If I don't get to that garden, Sam will never let me hear the end of it. You wanna come?"  
"If you don't mind being late," Bucky grinned. Steve blushed and shoved his shoulder, sitting up. Bucky followed suit as Steve climbed out and got dressed. He sat cross legged underneath the sheets and pushed his hair back with one hand, watching Steve slip into a pair of beat up jeans and a green VA t-shirt. Even unshowered and a little tired, he was something else entirely. Steve looked up and caught Bucky's eye, smiling at him.  
"Feel free to stay here," he said quietly. "I'd like to see you when I get home." His tone was so tender and so quiet that Bucky's heart jumped into his throat. His most serious relationship in recent memory had consisted of seeing someone twice in a row. This was a whole new ball game. He smiled softly at Steve.  
"Okay," he said. They stared at each other affectionately before Bucky hopped out of bed, breaking the moment. He wasn't good with moments. He kissed Steve and grabbed his pants from the pile of clothes on the floor, slipping them on clumsily. He looked back up at Steve, who was trying in vain to hide his constant blushing.  
"But I hope you have something to eat that I can microwave, because you might not have a house to come back to if I get back in that kitchen."

Bucky headed back home around 9 pm that night, and Natasha was already in his house, browsing through his DVR. He was never sure whether she broke in or if she had made herself a key years ago, but it didn't really matter. He closed the door and locked it behind him, trying not to meet her eyes. She was probably grinning smugly and looking pleased with herself.  
"Sooooo," she said. Bucky finally looked at her. He was right: She looked as if she had solved world peace, or singlehandedly found all five golden tickets, or both. Bucky grinned at her.  
"Heard you made twenty bucks," he said. She laughed and he grabbed two beers out of the fridge, making his way to the couch. Natasha was flipping through all his old episodes of _Game of Thrones_ and trying to find something she had recorded, because she didn't have a TV, choosing instead to commandeer Bucky's. He wouldn't have minded if she didn't love reality shows as much as she did.  
"You know, ten of that should rightfully be mine," he said, opening his beer. Natasha shook her head.  
"No way in hell, Barnes." She eyed him, sipping her beer. "Sooooooooo...," she turned towards him and waggled her eyebrows.  
"No way in hell, Romanoff," he shot back.  
"You're no fun," she pouted. They sat there for a minute drinking beer and watching Natasha's housewives show for a minute before she shoved his shoulder. "Now spill."  
"Tasha, I said no," he said, chugging down the last of his beer.  
"Seriously? You must really like him," she said, laughing.  
"Whatever."  
"Nice hickey," she said, poking his neck. Bucky grimaced and slapped her hand away.

Weeks passed, all of which found Bucky loitering at the Farmer's Market on the weekends. He and Steve went out most evenings; they had even gone to a few baseball games. Natasha had more than once walked into Bucky's apartment to find Bucky and Steve curled up on the couch, watching her old recorded reality TV. They had all but jumped apart when they saw her the first time.  
Natasha and Sam made a bet on how long it would take for Steve to convince Bucky to come help in the garden. Bucky maintained that he was a menace to any and all food and would kill Steve's vegetables just by breathing in their general vicinity. It took a few more weeks, but eventually Bucky had come home one day with dirt under his fingernails and a muddy handprint on the seat of his jeans.  
Natasha happily collected another twenty dollars.

Natasha, who had a standing date with Bucky at this point, went to the farmer's market alone the next week. Bucky had disappeared a day or two before without so much as a word and, shockingly enough, Steve wasn't at the produce tent either.  
"Hey, Chrissy," Natasha addressed one of the veterans she was a little more familiar with, "where's Steve?" Chrissy shrugged and turned to help a young dreadlocked couple.  
Sam appeared from the back of the tent, hauling a few boxes of squash.  
"Suddenly Steve's calling me asking to cover his shift at the tent, saying he's 'sick,'" he said, shaking his head. "I've never seen that man get sick. Like, ever."  
"Neither have I. And somebody wasn't at their apartment today," she said, laughing. She and Sam just shook their heads, and Natasha carried on picking up her groceries.

It was a hell of a time trying to get Steve to ditch his responsibilities, but Bucky had finally persuaded Steve to let him take them out for the weekend. What he had told Steve was going to be a nice, simple drive upstate ended up being a bed and breakfast in a quaint town on the southern coast of Maine. The bullshit travel brochure that Bucky had flipped through had promised endless amounts of restaurants serving the freshest lobster they'd ever tasted, and the entire town was supposed to have a picaresque view of the historic lighthouse.  
Not that they'd gotten around to seeing much of it. Friday had seen them arrive late because they had made more than a few stops so Steve could sketch something that caught his eye. Saturday had been a mix of gorging themselves on every lobster item in the restaurant closest to the B &B and spending the rest of the day in bed.  
It was well past noon on Sunday when they finally woke up. They had decided to stay up to watch the sun rise, and they had promptly ignored it as they made love furiously on the floor. They had crawled back into the damningly squeaky bed around six in the morning and had fallen asleep almost instantly.  
Bucky was the first to wake up and he lay quietly next to Steve, watching his chest rise and fall slowly. He shifted his head onto Steve's chest and listened to his heart beating steadily. He sighed contentedly, trying hard to think of a time when he'd been happier than he was now. He couldn't come up with anything.  
Steve was wonderful. He was a little too self-sacrificing and a stubborn workaholic, but he was genuine and funny and he had a kind heart. Bucky closed his eyes, content to lay there forever and just bask. How the hell he'd ended up with him, he'd never know, but Bucky sure as hell wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  
"Shouldn't we be awake by now?" Steve mumbled, bringing his hand up and entwining it in Bucky's hair. He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of Bucky's head and shifted a little, opening his eyes.  
"Hell no. I don't plan on leaving this bed for another two days," Bucky said, leaning up and kissing Steve. Steve laughed and kissed him back.  
"Well, unlike some of us, I have work," Steve joked, prodding at Bucky's chest. Bucky snorted. Outside of occasionally rebuilding cars, he sometimes went in and helped trained the more promising new recruits as snipers, but he had no day job to speak of. He knew Steve was in the same boat pension-wise, but Steve just was not the kind of person who could handle a life without work.  
Steve sat up and Bucky whined a little, flopping back onto his pillow.  
"You know, I'm pretty sure we could go out and find a nice little diner to eat at. I could go for some steak and eggs," Steve said, stretching his arms up and out.  
"I'm not hungry," he lied, and Steve just gave him a look. Bucky huffed and sat up next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He kissed Steve softly, content to just hold him and kiss him for the rest of...well.  
Bucky's stomach growled loudly and Steve laughed, pulling away.  
"Told you," he teased, poking Bucky in the stomach.  
"Fine, I'm a little hungry. We'll go out and get your stupid greasy steak," he said, hauling himself out of bed and started getting dressed. Steve just smiled, watching Bucky throw on boxers and pants and a sweater. Bucky moved with an easy grace that Steve was drawn to, and he was happy to just watch him move around the room, gathering his phone and wallet and rental car keys. Steve's heart caught a little in his throat when Bucky looked at him and flashed his smug grin. Steve bit his bottom lip a little, trying to hold something back.  
"Not that I'm complaining, but you gonna put something on?" Bucky asked, sitting on the bed as he started slipping on his socks and boots.  
"Yeah, in a minute." Steve ran his hands through Bucky's hair again, cupping the back of his head and pulling him in close. Bucky smiled softly and let himself be led into Steve's arms. He looked at Steve and smiled, leaning into him and kissing him softly. Bucky's hand reached up and caressed Steve's jaw, his thumb grazing over Steve's cheekbone.  
The kiss said everything they wouldn't.  
"Get dressed, you punk," Bucky said gruffly, pulling away and leaning back down to finish lacing his shoes.  
"Jerk," Steve smiled, hopping out of bed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and it's been sitting on my computer for literally two months because I've been nervous to post it but I really hope you enjoyed it! (Also forgive the blocky formatting? This is my first time editing in HTML.)


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